


The Food Chain (Time to Wake Up)

by luvsanime02



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Disturbing Discussions, Gen, Gen Fic, Language, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 00:11:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3670209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Goten wakes up confused and in pain. At least his best friend is there to help him. That's a good thing, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Food Chain (Time to Wake Up)

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. No money. Sad.

########

 **The Food Chain (Time to Wake Up)** by luvsanime02

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“Time to wake up.”

“…Nnngh.”

“That’s it. You always obey my orders so well, Goten.”

Slowly, his eyelids peel themselves apart a tiny fraction, just enough for him to realize that he’s outside somewhere with the sun shining brightly into his eyes. Wincing, he squeezes them shut again and turns his head to the side. A pounding starts up in his temples at his sudden movement, and another moan leaves his lips. Slowly daring to open his eyes one more time now that he’s facing away from the sun, Goten blinks away the blurriness of sleep and wonders what’s going on.

He doesn’t feel afraid, just confused. In fact, the idea that he should be scared never even crosses his mind. After all, he knows who’s sitting beside him before he opens his eyes. He knows before he hears the other speak. Some part of Goten knows even while unconscious who is waiting patiently for him to wake up. No, subconsciously he never for a moment considers being afraid of that reassuring and familiar presence.

Even when he really should.

“-unks,” he tries, managing only the second syllable of his best friend’s name. His throat is bone dry, and he wonders how long he’s been unconscious. Had they been sparring?

Trunks smiles over at him from where he’s sitting beside Goten’s head, one leg stretched out in front of him and the other curled up against his chest, arms wrapped lazily around his knee so that his fingers can intertwine. He looks like he’s been waiting all day for Goten to wake up, which could be the case for all that Goten remembers, except that Trunks isn’t that patient.

“Welcome back,” his friend teases him lightly, sounding no different from a hundred other times. Yet, now that Goten is waking up more, even if his headache isn’t diminishing any, he can see that something isn’t quite right. Trunks looks relaxed, but at the same time his eyes are too intent, endlessly scanning Goten’s face.

Goten frowns a little. “Is something wrong?” he asks, squinting to look at his friend more closely. Had Trunks gotten into a fight with one of his parents or something?

Instead of looking upset though, Trunks laughs softly, leaning his head far back to look up at the sky, moving his arms behind him for support. “Not anymore,” he answers.

Right. In Goten’s lifelong experience, it’s never a good thing when Trunks feels like being cryptic. Usually, it means that he’s hiding something. Hoping he’ll understand more of what’s going on if he’s sitting upright too, Goten shifts slightly. He fails to contain the sudden gasp of pain, and has to spend the next minute blinking away the sudden white spots covering his vision.

“I really wouldn’t try moving right now, Goten. Don’t worry, it’s not permanent. I’ll give you a Senzu Bean after we talk a bit.”

That’s not reassuring. Goten sends his friend a thoroughly confused look, trying to stop panting just at the memory of the pain. Trunks is still gazing up at the sky though, so Goten, being very careful not to move anything more than his arms and chest – and even that hurts badly – slowly manages to lever himself upright enough that he can see his legs. For a while, he can’t do anything but stare uncomprehendingly at the mess that’s supposed to be his lower left leg.

It looks like it’s been crushed under something extremely heavy and then dragged out from underneath the wreckage. The bone is clearly visible, the purest white that Goten has ever seen, and the muscles in his calf are clearly torn into shreds, strings of red dangling limply. He doesn’t even know the names of all the stuff inside a leg, or which is which even when it’s all out on display like now, but he does know that the only reason his lower leg is still attached is because the bone isn’t broken in half.

A whimper escapes his lips, and he can’t stop staring. It _hurts_. Like, really, really badly.

“Shhh…” A hand comes down over his eyes, blocking his view, and another hand pushes steadily on his shoulder, making him lie back down. “Just calm down. We need to talk first.”

“It hurts,” Goten whines. He can’t help it. He’s never been this injured before. What happened? His temples are still pounding out their own beat, though that pain is welcome now, since it almost distracts him from his leg. He tries to remember how he got injured, but his mind is fuzzy. All he can recall is Trunks, and a sharp flash of pain just before he lost consciousness.

“I know,” Trunks agrees, finally lifting his hand away from Goten’s eyes and carding those fingers through his hair, like he’s always done when Goten is upset. The soothing sensation calms him down a little. He still doesn’t understand what’s going on, but at least he isn’t alone. Trunks will explain, and his leg will get fixed, and everything will be fine again.

There isn’t much of a breeze that he can feel, though the day’s cool enough without one, being early spring still. Goten breathes in slowly while he waits in silence for his friend to speak, knowing that the other is choosing his words carefully in his head before talking out loud. That’s also mildly worrying. Trunks never bothers to pick over his words deliberately unless he knows that Goten won’t agree with whatever he’s going to say.

Eventually, one hand still carding through Goten’s hair, his friend once again drapes an arm over his leg, the hand dangling and absentmindedly pulling up blades of grass from the ground. Trunks speaks. “Do you ever feel like you just want to choke somebody, they’re being so annoying?”

Goten raises an eyebrow, wondering where Trunks is going with this. “Well, sure, everyone does at some point. You know someone long enough and they irritate you sometimes.” This is common sense. Goten is pretty sure that Trunks irritates him to that level at least once a month, and even his _dad_ has annoyed Goten that much from time to time, no matter how much he loves and looks up to the saiyan.

“Right,” Trunks agrees, with a purposely slow nod. So, not what Trunks is getting at, then, but just something leading up to it. After a pause, Trunks tilts his head, looking down at the grass he’s been pulling up. “How come you’re totally cool with hunting, even though you’re so ‘Dr. Dolittle’ sometimes?”

The question startles Goten, and he blinks in surprise. Doesn’t Trunks already know the answer to that? “‘Cause, it’s all about the cycle of living things,” he answers anyway, knowing that nothing more will get explained to him unless he goes along with it for now. “Sure, I love animals, but they’re also our food a lot of the time. Then we die and become their food. It’s the way everything dies but still serves a purpose.” He stops there because Trunks is nodding again, letting Goten know that this response is also expected.

Trunks looks up and over at him, expression serious, eyes calm. “Humans are animals too.”

Goten isn’t sure how to respond to that statement for a minute, and Trunks just sits there, waiting for him to speak. It’s the unusual patience that’s really starting to creep Goten out. Eventually, he says, “Right. So are saiyans.” Because he might not quite understand what’s going on at all, or what’s wrong with Trunks, but he does understand what his friend is saying so far.

A spark of amusement flits through Trunks’ expression at his comment, and he tips his head in acknowledgement. “Yes, exactly, Goten. It’s not about what’s an animal and what isn’t, but which animal comes out on top.”

The food chain. Goten has always loved that expression. It brings to his mind a bunch of yummy foods skewered on a long chain, one after the other disappearing into his stomach. Which gurgles loudly now at the reminder of food. The exasperated look Trunks sends him makes him lift a hand automatically towards the back of his head, but a jolt of pain brings him abruptly back to their conversation. “Seriously, Trunks, what’s this all about?” He can’t figure it out, though that’s nothing new, but his friend would have normally gotten to the point by now.

Another stillness. And suddenly Goten knows somewhere deep inside of him that he doesn’t want his question answered. Should never have asked it, even. Trunks smiles, lightly, remorseless. “This morning, before we were supposed to spar, I was in the middle of skinning these two bitches who were really annoying me. Only you came early and kind of freaked out when you saw, Chibi, and so I just wanted a chance to explain things before you got all upset again.”

Goten freezes, watching his friend’s eyes carefully to see if he’s lying or making a poor joke. Calm blue looks back at him, that hand never stopping its soothing motions through his hair. Goten’s mind is blank. He isn’t sure if he’s heard Trunks right, except that somehow he knows that he did. Still, it’s like he understands what Trunks has just said but the words still don’t make any _sense_. Like they’re spoken backwards or something, or in Pig Latin, which he can never remember how to speak properly.

And Trunks is still just sitting there, letting Goten take his time to absorb his words. The pain in his leg grows worse as he faintly recalls a deep feeling of panic. He hears screaming in his memory that he instinctively shies away from, even now, and he remembers terror, but not his own. Oddly enough, the remembered fear clears his head now, and he meets Trunks’ gaze numbly. “…You murdered two people?” he asks, already knowing the answer but not knowing _why_ , which is his real question.

Trunks shrugs, not seeming very concerned. Or at all, really. “They were being very annoying this morning, and wouldn’t shut up. So, I brought them here and was skinning them when you arrived.” Another shrug. “I wanted stew. I would have shared.”

And Goten would definitely have eaten some too, not knowing what it contained. He feels oddly dizzy, and thinks that he should probably lie down, but then he remembers that he already is. The feeling of vertigo doesn’t fade, though. “Why am I injured?” he asks next, figuring that he should leave off the subject of Trunks being a murderer until Goten knows how to handle it better. He feels very cold.

There’s a roll of those eyes, the same ones he’s known all of his life, followed by a theatrical sigh. “You just weren’t listening,” Trunks explains, sounding baffled. Goten is sure he’s supposed to be the confused one. Nothing is making sense to him right now. “You started yelling about Babidi, and me being under someone else’s control, and you were this close-” fingers are held up with not even a centimeter between them “-to powering up and completely flipping out and attacking me or something. Plus, there was still so much screaming from those two idiots that I knew I couldn’t calm you down right then, so I went super saiyan and knocked you out quickly, then finished up.”

And mangled his leg in the process. Never let it be said that Trunks can’t be as ruthless as both of his parents when he wants something to go his way. Still, Goten has to admit that it sounds like he’d completely freaked out and hadn’t been listening to Trunks earlier. If he’d been calmer, he would have realized that Trunks isn’t under anyone else’s control. His friend looks far too calm, true, but he also looks exactly like the person Goten has known his whole life, down to his familiar gestures and mannerisms. Goten closes his eyes to feel out Trunks’ ki, and there it is, the same as always.

This is Trunks. His best friend, and the one person Goten can always sense, no matter how far apart they are. Who has also just admitted to killing two people and who has maybe - Goten isn’t going to ask, but that’s because he’s pretty sure (or entirely sure, but can’t admit that even to himself just yet) -eaten them while Goten was unconscious.

Trunks leans forward towards Goten after another moment, and Goten stares back placidly. He should probably be nervous, or afraid or panicking or something, but instead he just stares back and waits calmly for whatever Trunks is going to say or do next. He can’t be afraid; this is the same person who always becomes furious whenever someone is even a little bit rude to Goten, even now when they are both old enough to know that assholes exist everywhere in life and that Goten can take care of himself.

“You know,” Trunks muses, looking into his eyes from rather close up, “I think you’re in shock.”

That makes sense, Goten agrees, with something like relief. It’s the first thing that has fully made sense to him since he’s woken up. He’s lost a lot of blood, he’s sure, even though it’s pretty much stopped now from the tourniquet that has been thoughtfully tied around his upper leg. Then of course there’s stumbling upon his friend killing two people (he is never getting those screams out of his head), and then waking up hurt and being told that said friend is not only a murderer but a cannibal. Goten is sure he’s in shock. Who wouldn’t be?

“You’ve got to be kidding,” he mutters. Not because he thinks any part of this is a joke. He just has to say the words out loud. They aren’t even really directed at Trunks, which his friend seems to understand because he doesn’t respond to them.

“You all right?” Trunks asks him after a minute or two. Goten sends him what is probably the best ‘Are you kidding?’ face he’s ever given anyone, but Trunks merely waves the look away. “No, I mean, you’re done freaking out, right? It’s not such a big deal, Goten. It’s not like I’ll get caught or anything. And besides, I wasn’t going to waste the meat. I know how much you hate it when someone does that.”

He does. Goten despises people who hunt for the sport of it only and dispose of the carcass or keep it as a trophy. Hunting to eat is fine, and even having fun while hunting is understandable to him, but the thought of wasting the life you’ve taken away sours his stomach.

His stomach feels pretty disagreeable right now, actually. For the first time that he can recall, Goten really isn’t all that hungry at the moment. He starts to tell Trunks this, because it will probably help illustrate clearly just how not okay Goten is right now, but his friend chooses that moment to take out a small bag that he knows contains the Senzu Beans. Suddenly, he worries that mentioning his loss of appetite might make Trunks think that Goten doesn’t want one of them right now, when nothing can be further from the truth.

A bean falls into his open mouth, and he chews quickly to get past the nasty flavor before swallowing. His energy shoots right back up again, and his leg feels even more horrible for half a second before it’s suddenly better. Even his headache finally fades away. Goten can’t hold back a sigh of relief, closing his eyes to fully enjoy the lack of pain.

“Yeah, you hit your head pretty hard, even for you.”

Translation: Trunks ripped his leg open so that the pain would stop him from transforming, and then smacked his head as hard as he could against some rocks in order to knock him unconscious for a while. Goten considers being angry, but he’s too busy trying to decide what to think about the murderer part to give his previous injuries much thought. He just breathes for a minute, folding his arms back under his head and enjoying the nice weather. It’s past lunch, he can see when he opens his eyes again and takes in the position of the sun. Almost suppertime, in fact.

“Trunks,” he starts, still not really sure what to say, “murder is wrong.” Okay, that seems like a good starting point. He turns his head to the side to look at his friend, who’s watching him in return with a familiar mild annoyance. “No, look, I understand all that other stuff you said. And I agree. But we’re not something higher on the food chain. We a _re_ human, even if only half. And it’s wrong to kill a member of your own species and eat them.”

“Praying Mantises do it,” Trunks shoots back idly, like they’re arguing about which Final Fantasy game is the superior one. “While they’re mating.”

“We’re not Praying Mantises!” he shouts, not too loud but still full of his own exasperation, sitting up and crossing his legs and arms to better illustrate his point. “We’re humans, Trunks.”

“Not just humans,” his friend reminds him, voice soft.

Goten blinks as a thought occurs to him then, something clicking into place in his head and allowing him to finally understand Trunks’ point of view as only the person who’s been his best friend for years can. “…Do you think it’s okay to kill someone because half of us isn’t human?”

Trunks snorts. “Half of us isn’t just not human; it’s a species higher up on the predator scale too.”

Goten looks at his friend in complete disbelief, the same as when Trunks had tried to get him to sneak into his father’s room and steal a pair of his gloves when they were kids. “I’d really hate to see your mom’s face if you told her humans are inferior to saiyans.” Not to mention his own mother’s. He shudders at that idea and quickly pushes it from his mind.

“I didn’t say humans are inferior, Goten,” Trunks shoots back. “I just said they’re less skilled as predators, as warriors, than saiyans are.”

And that isn’t something Goten can refute, so he switches topics slightly, silently conceding that victory to his friend but refusing to give up on the argument. “Still, you can’t tell me that you look at all humans and see prey. More than half your family is human, Trunks.”

“It doesn’t matter,” his friend dismisses airily. “They’re only a small minority, so they don’t count as an accurate representation of their whole species.”

Goten narrows his eyes. He can’t quite decide if Trunks is doing his usual ‘Whatever rules apply to everyone else don’t apply to me’ routine, or if he honestly doesn’t understand what Goten is saying. He isn’t even sure which option he prefers. “It does matter,” he argues. “You can’t just say that half of you isn’t important or doesn’t exist. You’re half-saiyan, but you’re half-human too, Trunks. If humans are on the menu, then saiyans are too. You can’t tell me that you want to go find our dads and barbeque them.”

Trunks laughs. Goten can’t believe that they’re talking about this so calmly. Goten’s pretty sure he’s still in shock himself, but Trunks doesn’t have that as an excuse. “Well, of course not. Nothing about our dads says ‘Prey here, come and get it!’, now does it? We’d be slaughtered.”

Goten is usually happy about that instinctive ‘we.’ Like they aren’t really separate units, but one whole divided equally into two forms. In this one instance, though, he hopes the look that he shoots his best friend properly conveys his flat refusal to be a part of the murdering and cannibalism. The sudden thought that Trunks might be expecting Goten to not only agree with him, but also to participate next time, sends a chill of horror down his spine.

Trunks snorts at whatever he’s seeing on Goten’s face, but he doesn’t say anything reassuring either. “Though I see your point.” Goten doesn’t hold even a slight hope that Trunks actually does. He isn’t that stupid. “Everyone else but a demi-saiyan, and one that’s half-human at that, is a different species.” He snorts, looking amused still. “Guess the only ones completely off the menu are you and Gohan.”

“I was always off the menu,” he responds without thought, but knows it’s true. He doesn’t need Trunks’ nod of agreement to know that his best friend never had any intention of killing and eating him. And it is nice to know that his friend isn’t going to try and eat his brother, or their dads, or their families. But that still leaves a lot of people Goten knows, and the overall problem, which is that he has no idea how to talk his friend out of killing and eating people.

“It’s wrong,” he insists. He’s said it before, but it really needs repeating. A lot. “Killing humans and eating them, even if they’re strangers, is wrong.” All logical arguments aside, there are some facts that remain true and this is one of them.

Trunks shakes his head fondly. “You worry too much, Goten. Who cares if a few annoying humans die every once in a while? I’m pretty sure that Papa does the same thing sometimes, and I don’t see you confronting him.”

Something in Goten freezes in fear, like a mouse that has just felt the shadow of a hawk pass over. Vegeta-san goes around killing people and eating them too. Okay, now he’s afraid. In fact, something in his brain so old and primal that it doesn’t even have a voice is nevertheless screaming at him to run. Now. If only there is somewhere on the planet he can run to. Well, there goes all hopes Goten has of talking Trunks out of being a recreational cannibal.

A hand settles on his head again. “Relax, Goten. Papa won’t eat you. He likes you just fine, though he’ll never admit to that even under torture. Besides, he knows I’d never forgive him. If you’re still upset about all of this, just talk to my mom. I’m pretty sure she knows about it ‘cause she knows everything, and she probably freaked out too at first.”

The hand leaves his hair, and Goten notices through a kind of daze that Trunks is standing up and grabbing his hand to pull him along too. “Come on. We’ve been out here forever and I’m starving again, so I don’t understand how you haven’t keeled over from hunger by now. Let’s go to Capsule Corp for dinner. You can talk to Mama after we eat.”

Goten watches as Trunks starts flying off, and he follows automatically, his hand still caught in his best friend’s. Maybe he will talk to Bulma-san. After all, his day can’t possibly get any more surreal. He also makes a mental note to never ever join either of their dads on a hunting trip, just in case.


End file.
